


No Man, No Cry

by raspberrylimonade



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergent, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Jackson is a douche, me fixing the jdia hug basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 02:17:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12223713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raspberrylimonade/pseuds/raspberrylimonade
Summary: How the Jackson and Lydia hug should have gone.





	No Man, No Cry

It was odd, how she was worried about  _ Jackson _ of all people. Sure, she had mostly gotten over the whole ignoring-her-then-dumping-her-out-of-the-blue-then-blaming-her-for-something-she-wasn’t-aware-of-then-dying-then-getting-her-hopes-up-again-then-breaking-her-heart-and-leaving-without-a-word thing, but the just thought of his name still brought a bitter taste to her mouth. As such, the amount of concern she had in the moment was surprising.

In part, her worry stemmed from her banshee instincts. Someone close to death was thinking about Jackson, and she could feel their thoughts. If she had time to mull over it, she would be thinking about who this person was.

The other half of the equation was that Lydia had felt death so many times that she dreaded feeling it again, especially that of someone she knew, even if it was someone like Jackson.

Finding Jackson was also a pragmatic issue. If he was really back in Beacon Hills (something she could not believe was a possibility, since he had been more than eager to leave their crap town behind), he would lend them some much needed physical strength against Monroe’s army.

“Frick shit.”

The sound of Stiles swearing caused Lydia’s head to turn. He was wrestling with a hunter, who smashed his FBI-issued (read: loaned for the field op and not yet returned) handgun under the butt of a rifle. Lydia steadied herself to aim a kick to her boyfriend’s assailant, but Stiles managed to duck under the man’s arm and throw his weight forward, sending the man head-first into the concrete wall. Lydia could not help the way her brows raised in appreciation.

Stiles let the unconscious hunter collapse on the floor. When he turned and saw the way she was regarding him, a grin broke across his face.

“FBI training,” he explained.

Lydia never thought it possible to be turned on by less than five words, but Stiles, as always, was full of surprises.

He kicked his crumpled handgun aside, then looked at the next door. It was just that one door, one room full of armed men, then another door to the prisoner (that might or might not be Jackson).

“Well, you’re gonna have to take care of this one,” Stiles told her. His hand was already gripping the door knob. “You ready?”

Lydia planted her feet and nodded.

As soon as Stiles shoved the door open, Lydia screamed.

She screamed until she could no longer see any movement in the room beyond the doorway.

Stiles jumped in front of her when she stopped, ready to shield her in case someone had not been knocked out. When no one tried to attack them, Stiles threw her a look over his shoulder and then he was darting across the room to the next door.

Lydia watched him kick the door down when the lock would not budge - noting at the back of her mind that her scream should have weakened the hinges. She watched Stiles’ muscles tense as he prepared to burst into the room and free whoever was inside, only to stop short as someone was already standing on the other side of the door.

“Jackson?”

“Stiles?”

Stiles turned back to her, revealing the person before him.

“Jackson?” Lydia asked, unable to control her voice.

Jackson turned his head, his eyes meeting hers, and then Lydia did not know why or how, but she was running towards him, throwing her arms around him, crying for joy into his neck.

But Jackson wrapped his hands around her shoulders and yanked her away from him.

“What the hell did you do?” he hissed.

Lydia blinked away the spit in her face.

“I was doing perfectly fine, on my own, far away from this hellhole,” Jackson seethed. “Until these guys show up and attack me at my house.”

“What?” Lydia stuttered, for the first time since he left. “I didn’t - ”

“I should have known it had something to do with you,” Jackson spat, “ _because_ _YOU STILL RUIN EVERYTHING_!”

He shoved her backwards as he screamed the words at her, sending her crashing into the wall behind. Lydia cowered as soon as her back hit the wall, bringing her arms up to block her face. She had not realised she had been stepping backwards, letting an angry Jackson corner her. His hand slammed angrily into the concrete next to her head, and she whimpered as she flinched and dropped into a ball.

She peered through her arms, trying to spot Stiles’ trademark sneakers from her crouched position, but in vain.

Stiles was gone.

“No,” Lydia cried to herself. “No, no, no, no…”

Stiles was gone. She’d pushed him away again, let Jackson hurt her again.

She’d lost Stiles, again.

She felt Jackson grab her hair, shoving her head to the side as he continued yelling at her. The force sent her whole body falling sideways, and she braced for the moment she hit the ground.

But it never came.

“Lydia! Lydia, hey hey hey, Lydia.”

Lydia blinked, lifting her head slightly to see soft flannel fisted in her hands.

Two strong arms encircled her, one hand placed gently on the back of her head, the other spanning the length of her back.

“Stiles,” she whispered.

“It’s okay,” Stiles murmured. “Shhh...it’s okay. It’s okay, Lydia.”

The softness of their embrace was broken by a muffled roar. Stiles twisted his body towards the sound, and Lydia mourned when the movement caused his arms to loosen their protective hold on her. There was a crashing noise, and then someone barrelled through the door on the far end of the room.

“Jackson?”

“Stiles?”

Lydia could only gasp, the familiarity of their words sending a shiver down her spine. Stiles was immediately all over her again, one hand stroking her back, the other gently rubbing circles into her arm. His breath fanned over her ear as he whispered words of comfort.

“Lydia?” 

She heard Jackson call her name, knew she should at least acknowledge him, but she could not bring herself to look up. 

She pitched forward into Stiles instead. “What happened?”

“You gasped, and then you made this odd noise? Like a squeal? And then you started flinching like something was hitting you and you backed into the wall and started crying - ”

“It was that thing,” Jackson interrupted. “There was something in here.”

“The Anuk-Ite,” Stiles told him. “It’s a creature that amplifies fear.”

He turned back to where Lydia was curled into his body, breathing in short gasps.

“It’s okay. It’s gone now.”

Lydia nodded and took a deep breath, sinking further into Stiles as she exhaled. She heard Jackson asking if they were okay, and buried her face into the folds of Stiles’ flannel in return. She hated the thought of meeting Jackson again after the last two years and having him see her like this. She hated to look weak in front of him. Most of all, she hated how even just an image of him was enough to make her shrink, to make herself small again.

Now, cocooned in Stiles’ arms, she realised she had not just been afraid of getting emotionally hurt. She had been afraid of being in that kind of relationship again. Afraid of making the wrong choice, of choosing the wrong person.

Of losing what she had with Stiles.

She leaned her head up to look at him.

“Thank you,” she said softly, and when his eyes cast down to meet hers, glowing in the dim light, she knew he understood her.  _ I love you _ .

A cough from behind Stiles reminded her that they were not alone in the room.

“I’m okay,” she announced in a composed voice, untangling herself from Stiles. They stood up together and then turned to face Jackson. Lydia primly smoothened the front of her clothes, as if she had not just had an emotional breakdown.

“I’m okay,” she repeated.

Jackson stared at her, and Lydia realised she had subconsciously reached for Stiles’ hand, interlacing her fingers with his.

To Jackson’s credit, he was not fazed by the revelation for very long. He shook his head and cleared his throat again.

“I’m sorry, you mentioned something about a fear...thing?” he asked.

“The Anuk-Ite,” Lydia answered, as did Stiles. She turned to him, and he gestured for her to continue.

“It’s an ancient creature that recently escaped and has been breeding and amplifying people’s fears,” she explained. “That’s how Monroe was able to mobilize so many people against the supernatural. Against us.”

Jackson nodded. “And this thing,” he started. “Does it know if your fears come true?”

He looked a little pale, and not because of the blood caking his skin (his wounds should have closed by now). It was as if something had...spooked him.

Stiles, observant as ever, picked up on this.

“Why?” he asked, taking half a step towards Jackson. “What happened?”

But Jackson was already pushing past them, heading out of the bunker.

“We need to find Ethan,” he stated simply.

“Ethan?” Stiles asked, echoing Lydia’s thoughts.  _ As in, former alpha twin Ethan? _

Jackson stopped in his tracks and turned around.

“Yes,” he huffed urgently. “He’s with me.”

“Ethan?” Stiles asked again.

“Yes.”

“With you…” Lydia said, looking to Jackson for clarification. He nodded.

“Ethan?”

“Oh.”

Jackson ducked his head, and if they were not in the middle of a war, Lydia would have been hurt and offended that he never got this flustered talking about her.

“Yes, Ethan,” Jackson said again, and then he stiffened. “We need to find him.”

He turned and stalked away, leaving Lydia and Stiles to hurry after him.

It was not five seconds before Jackson stumbled suddenly, causing Lydia and Stiles to crash into him. Lydia careened backwards into Stiles, and felt his hand come up to the small of her back to stabalise her.

Just ahead, Jackson regained his footing and frowned down at the legs of the man he had just tripped over. He looked up, his head turning around, as if just now realising the numerous bodies slumped around the room.

“You...you did that?” he asked, pointing at the man at his feet.

Lydia preened as the warmth from Stiles’ hand on her back spread through her.

“Yeah,” she answered, smiling smugly at Jackson’s astonished expression. “I did that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from It's Gonna Be Me by NSYNC because when Lydia finally got to love somebody it was Stiles.
> 
> If you liked this I am raspberrylimonade on tumblr and stlnskissmartin on twitter.


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